The Two-Family House: A Novel (32 page)

“For helping him. When Teddy died, he needed someone to talk to, someone to help keep Teddy’s memory alive. Teaching you gave him that, and I think watching you learn made him think differently. You know, when I was your age, my father didn’t believe that girls needed the same kind of education as boys. He doesn’t think that way anymore.”

“I don’t think I could have changed his mind about something like that.”

“Trust me. You didn’t try to, but you did. You were never afraid of him.”

Natalie thought back to the day she and Teddy had found the book. “Teddy used to be afraid of him. I’m not sure why I never was. Maybe if he was my father I would have been.”

Judith looked upset then, so Natalie tried to explain. “I think everyone is a little bit afraid of their parents when they’re young. Kids just want their parents to be proud of them, and it’s frightening if they’re not.”

Judith’s expression softened. “Maybe.” Then she snapped her fingers. “Hey! What if I ask your mom to let you come visit me in Boston for a few days this summer? What do you think?”

“I’d really like that.” Natalie didn’t understand why Judith was taking such an interest in her all of a sudden, but it was a wonderful feeling. Natalie had always loved having brothers—they were her protectors, her champions, her family. Still, spending time with Judith made her wonder, just for a minute, what life might have been like if she had grown up with a sister.

Part Five

Chapter 65

MORT

(October 1969)

When Abe had his second heart attack, Mort had not seen Rose for eight years. The day before she had been scheduled to fly back to New York, she had called Mort to tell him she was extending her trip. She needed more time to sort through Faye’s estate with the lawyers. Two weeks after that, Mort got a letter in the mail. Dinah had met a very nice young man who was the grandson of one of Faye’s neighbors. She was considering enrolling in a two-year college program near Miami in the fall, but she would come home in August for a few weeks. She would either stay in New York and take some classes there or pack up her things and return to Florida for college. Rose supposed the decision would be made based on how things developed with the young man. Regardless of what Dinah decided, however, Rose planned to stay in Florida indefinitely.

The letter was quite specific. Rose didn’t want Mort to worry about her—physically she was fine, mentally she was sound and financially she was independent. He should not take her leaving personally, and he should feel free to explain the situation to their family and friends in whatever manner he saw fit. Her reasons for staying in Florida were simple: the ocean had a calming effect on her, and for the first time in many years, she felt peaceful. Rose was sure Mort would not want her to leave such a beneficial environment. She was sure he would be happier without her. She wished him well, but she did not think further extended communication would be constructive or necessary. She hoped he understood.

Mort did understand. He wrote back telling her so, and let her know that he would not contact her further unless he needed to. He packed up the rest of her clothes to ship to Florida. At the last minute he put a picture of Teddy in one of the boxes, but whether it was an act of kindness or cruelty, he was unable to decide.

Mimi and Edward saw Rose whenever they vacationed at Edward’s family home in Palm Beach. Dinah eventually eloped with the neighbor’s grandson, settled in Florida and saw her father a few times a year when she came north to visit. Of the three sisters, only Judith had no contact with their mother.

Mort wasn’t surprised when Dinah told him Rose would not be attending Abe’s funeral. He couldn’t honestly say that he wanted her there, but her absence forced him to face the finality of their arrangement.

At the funeral chapel, Mort sat between Natalie and Judith. Natalie had grown into an unusually beautiful young woman—she shared a few of Mimi’s physical traits, but her eyes were softer and more thoughtful. Judith was attractive in a more typical way, a way that Mort had come to appreciate over the years. The fact that the two cousins had become so close brought Mort a great deal of satisfaction.

Mort had been to his share of funerals, but this was the first one since Teddy’s where he was obligated to wear the black mourning ribbon reserved for the deceased’s immediate family. He remembered how hysterical Helen had been before Teddy’s service when Abe told her she couldn’t wear one. Today she wore a black ribbon on her dress, and while its presence over her heart brought no ostensible relief, Mort could see that she was better able to retain her composure in this setting than she had been so many years earlier.

Abe was sixty-two years old when he died. This had been acceptable by the standards of his parents’ generation, but it was premature by those of his own. “He was so
young
,” the coworkers, relatives and friends murmured to Mort as they shook his hand. At Teddy’s funeral, no one had mentioned his age. If sixty-two was too young to die, eight had been too catastrophic even to mention.

“We will now hear a few words from Abe’s brother.” That was his cue from the rabbi. Helen had asked him the day before if he would speak at the funeral. What could he say? He was a terrible public speaker, he knew, but he didn’t want the service to pass without marking the moment in some way. He wanted to honor his brother.

Mort rose from his seat, nervous and slightly nauseated, to take his place at the front of the chapel. Over a hundred people were packed into the seats, and everyone would be watching.

Mort had no notes to rely on, just thoughts he tried to convey. He spoke about how Abe had taught him to throw a baseball when they were children, and how Abe once beat up a classmate for picking on him in school. He talked about Abe’s kindness, his generosity, his willingness to forgive all transgressions, and even more remarkable, his ability to forget them. He praised Abe’s optimism, his appetite, the interest he took in everyone he met, whether friend or employee. “You know,” Mort admitted, “when I was a young man, I used to think Abe didn’t pay enough attention to the bookkeeping aspect of our business, that he didn’t care enough about the numbers. I used to think that was a weakness. As I grew older, I began to appreciate Abe’s contributions more, and I figured that with our different strengths, we balanced each other out. Now, with Abe gone, I know the truth. Abe’s role at Box Brothers was much more important than mine. Abe paid attention to the numbers that mattered most: his twenty employees, his infinite friends, his five children, his four grandchildren and his singular wife. I only wish he could have had more than sixty-two years to do that.”

Most of the people at Abe’s funeral knew Mort, or, if they didn’t know him personally, they knew of him from others. His reputation did not prepare them for the warmth of the eulogy he gave. He returned to his seat, unrecognizable.

Later, on the way to Helen’s house from the cemetery, Mort could not help but to take stock of his life. His brother, Abe, was gone and Teddy, his only son, had died years before. His wife had left him. Mimi and Dinah were present in his life, but not significantly so. He had two young grandsons (Mimi’s boys) whom he hardly saw and no real friends to speak of. Earlier in his life, after measuring such devastating losses, he would have considered himself wholly in the red.

But time had altered his perspective, and there were blessings still left to be counted. Over the past eight years, Helen had become like a sister to him. She invited him to the house a couple of nights a week, where he debated baseball history and game highlights with George and Joe over dinner. He found he enjoyed working with Harry and Sam at Box Brothers. His daughter Judith was a professor at Barnard and was about to publish her second book on modern poetry. Natalie was graduating from Barnard in the spring as a math major and he was looking forward to attending her graduation with the rest of her family.

As Mort considered his situation now, in the autumn of his fifty-ninth year, he concluded that his numbers were steadily improving.

Chapter 66

JUDITH

(April 1970)

Six months after the funeral, Judith met Natalie for lunch between classes. Natalie’s thesis was due in a week and she was working furiously to finish it. Judith found the twenty-one-year-old in their usual booth at the coffee shop on 116th Street, scribbling on a stack of papers in red pen. She stopped writing when she saw Judith and waved.

“I already ordered for us,” Natalie told her. “Two grilled cheese sandwiches and two pieces of apple pie.”

“Perfect,” said Judith. She slid into the worn leather banquette and pointed to the paper pile that rested on the linoleum tabletop. “How’s it going?”

“Okay, I guess. There’s a lot to do, and I’m just hoping it’s good enough.” Natalie looked as pretty as ever, but Judith couldn’t help registering the dark circles under her eyes and the messy pieces of dark brown hair escaping from her ponytail. She had lost weight since Abe had passed away, and Judith was worried about her.

“I understand, but you need to get some rest. Do you want me to talk to your thesis adviser about an extension?”

Natalie rolled her eyes. “Just because Professor Kaplan is your
boyfriend
doesn’t mean he should give me special treatment.”

“I know, but you’ve been through a lot this year.” She tried to change the subject. “Hey, how’s the chemistry major from Columbia?”

Natalie shook her head. “Roger? Physics major, actually. But it’s over. There was no
chemistry
.” She smirked at her own bad joke and scrambled to move the paper pile over to one side of the table as the waitress set down their sandwiches.

Judith bit into the triangle-shaped half of her grilled cheese. No matter how many she made at home on her own stove, she could never get them to taste this good. “What about that cute Canadian guy from last year? You liked him, didn’t you?”

“I did, for a while.…”

Judith tried to sound casual. “Have you seen Johnny lately?”

Natalie shoved an entire half of grilled cheese into her mouth and chewed. She wouldn’t look up.

“C’mon, Nat. What’s going on? All those cute boys calling you, and you don’t want to date any of them.” Judith paused to give Natalie an opening. But when she didn’t stop chewing, Judith continued, “Does this have anything to do with Johnny?”

Natalie paused to swallow. “Are you an English professor or a detective?”

“There are more similarities than you’d think.”

Natalie’s face flushed red. She finished her sandwich and downed the rest of her coffee. Judith didn’t want to overwhelm her with questions, so she tried to be patient. In the meantime, the waitress returned to clear their plates and refill their coffee. When she brought over the two slices of pie, Natalie started talking. “The thing is,” she said, scraping the filling out of the crust, “no matter who we date, no matter what we do, it always comes back to Johnny and me. There’s so much we’ve shared together. Teddy, my dad.” She put down her fork. “How could I love someone who’s never even met my father?”

“Bill is never going to meet my mother.”

“It’s not the same.” Natalie looked annoyed, and Judith regretted her comment.

“I know.”

“When Johnny went to college, we said we would meet other people and that we’d try to forget about each other in
that
way. But then he’d come home and we’d see each other again. What’s between us just never goes away. Not for him and not for me.”

“So you two have been seeing each other?”

Natalie looked sheepish. “Yes. But what can we do about it? We’re first cousins, for crying out loud. There’s a tremendous stigma.”

“It’s perfectly legal in New York. Besides, a million famous people have married their first cousins.”

“I know, I know.” Natalie rattled off a list of names without even thinking. “Charles Darwin, H. G. Wells, Edgar Allan Poe, Igor Stravinsky, Jesse James, Albert Einstein. And that’s just a few of them.”

“Wow, I guess you’ve really thought about this.”

“Of course I have. Johnny and I both have. But Arlene’s great-uncle or something married one of his first cousins and their son had some sort of birth defect. Johnny doesn’t really believe that’s what caused it, but it worries him.”

“Nat, if you love each other, that’s the most important thing. Not what might happen ten years from now and not what other people might think.”

Natalie wiped her eyes with her napkin. “You say that, but what if my mother doesn’t approve? I can’t upset her now, not so soon after my father. Judith, I don’t know what to do.”

Judith wanted to tell Natalie the truth. More than anything, she wanted to take away the burden Natalie carried.
He’s not your cousin
, she wanted to say.
You don’t need to cry—you’re not even related.
But Judith was afraid she would only be trading one burden for another. What would she say?
Our mother and our aunt swapped you and Teddy when you were born
? Natalie might not believe her. She might refuse to speak to her again. And even if it all went well and Natalie was able to accept what Judith told her, the secret was simply not Judith’s to tell. If Helen loved Natalie as much as Judith thought she did, shouldn’t Helen have that opportunity?

“Natalie, she’ll understand.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’ve known your mother a long time. She helped me back when my father used to yell at me about the books I wanted to read. She helped me when my parents didn’t want to let me go to college. She doesn’t shy away from messy situations, and she’ll help you now.” Judith didn’t trust herself to say much more. “Your mother understands how complicated life can be.”

Chapter 67

HELEN

After Abe’s first heart attack, Helen became vigilant in all matters relating to his health. She changed his favorite recipes so that he stayed on his diet. She forced him to take walks with her every day. She counted out his pills with absolute precision and made sure he didn’t stay late at work. Abe lost thirty pounds and looked ten years younger. But the fear of losing him overwhelmed her. She woke in the middle of the night to check on his breathing. She read everything she could find about heart disease. Over time, Helen began to live life partly in shadow.